


in times of trouble

by thisissirius



Category: Emmerdale
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Character Death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-29
Updated: 2016-09-29
Packaged: 2018-08-18 14:27:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8165140
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisissirius/pseuds/thisissirius
Summary: If Aaron were here, Robert knows, he’d be with Adam. 
  in which robert is still working on being a Better Person and does what he thinks aaron would do.





	

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first emmerdale fic ever, so i hope you'll be kind ;_;
> 
> i had a lot of Feelings after today's episode, and someone on tumblr was talking about how they hope robert and aaron will be there for adam and i had thoughts. so this happened. 
> 
> references tonight's happenings.

If Aaron were here, Robert knows, he’d be with Adam. 

Robert doesn’t have that kind of relationship with his brother-in-law, they’re not close. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t ache for Adam, doesn’t remember the hurt and crippling grief of loss. His father, his _mother_ , and knowing that there was nothing he could have done, nothing that would stop the pain. 

Adam is family by default, whether or not he’s married to Vic, because he’s Aaron’s best friend. Robert’s going to make the effort. He drags a hand down his thigh, hovering outside the door like an unwelcome visitor, something he’s not altogether sure he isn’t.

Living here was good, gave him stability when he needed it most, and even now that he’s living with Aaron, he likes to think it’s a place he will always be welcome. He knocks, part of him hoping that nobody answers and he can leave. _I thought you were trying to change_ , his inner voice berates him. It sounds suspiciously like Aaron. 

When the door does open, it’s Vic, her eyes red and cheeks stained. Robert immediately draws her into a hug, knowing that’s what people do in times like these, and surprising himself by how much it’s the first thing he _wants_ to do. Perhaps he is changing. He kisses the top of her head while she cries, fists resting against his chest, her face tucked into his neck. 

He doesn’t know how long they stand in the doorway, but eventually Vic rubs at her eyes with the sleeves of her hoodie and steps back. 

Robert hesitates. “How is Adam holding up?”

If Vic’s surprised by the question, she covers it well. “He won’t talk to me. I don’t know - I know he’s hurting, for his mum and for himself, but I don’t know what to do.”

“Who does?” Robert asks. “Is he in?”

Vic frowns. “He’s upstairs, why? You can’t want him to-”

“I don’t want him to do anything,” Robert assures her, rubbing the back of his head. “I wanted to see if he - if you - need anything.”

Vic’s eyes soften, though still surprised, and she tugs him into the house. Robert walks into the living room, the comfortable familiarity overriding his nervousness. Vic steps around him, fingers dragging up his arm as she passes. “I’ll go and get him. I can’t promise he’ll want to talk.”

The fact that she’s giving him this is enough. 

Taking a seat on the sofa, Robert waits, hearing the low voices of both Vic and Adam upstairs. He doesn’t even know what he’s doing here, not really. This is Aaron’s job, not his, and Aaron is so much better at it. 

Robert hears Adam coming before he sees him, footsteps heavy on the stairs. When he looks up, Adam’s eyes are narrowed, though red and puffed from crying. His hands are clenched into fists and Robert can literally feel the anger radiating off of him. 

“No offence, mate, but I’m not coming into work-”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to.” Robert sighs, shifting until he's sat on the edge of the sofa. Adam’s eyes don’t leave him, and Robert can see that he’s a step away from breaking. He’s been there, he knows the signs. “I just wanted to ask if you - if Aaron were here, he’d be making sure you’re okay.”

“Well he’s not,” Adam snaps, “and I’m not.”

Robert’s convinced now this is a bad idea, but he’s trying. He promised Aaron he’d change, knows Vic and Diane want to see him change, and _he_ wants to. He wants to be better, and maybe they’re not close, but he likes Adam. 

When the silence drags on too long, Adam’s anger seems to dissipate slightly and he sits in the arm chair. Keeping his face hidden from Robert, Adam clutches his fingers in his hair. When he speaks, its low, and Robert has to strain to hear. “I keep thinking there’s something I could have done, that I could have _stopped_ her somehow.”

Robert swallows thickly, remembers the smell and cloying thickness of smoke, the crackle of fire that still permeates his every nightmare. “You feel guilty, like you didn’t do enough. Like maybe you’ve betrayed her.”

Adam looks up then, startled. 

Shrugging, Robert meets his eyes slowly. “I haven’t lost my sister, Adam, but that doesn’t mean I don’t know loss.”

“It’s not the same.” Adam’s anger flares up again, fists clenched against his knees.

“My mother burned inside of a barn,” Robert snaps, unable to keep the words from falling between them. He shouldn’t be doing this, not for himself, and certainly not when Adam’s just lost his sister, but he can’t help himself. “I smelt it, I heard it, I _felt_ it. I know you’re hurting right now, that you’re angry and sad and guilty and you want it all to end.”

Adam says nothing, but he’s paying attention, even if his knuckle-white grip on his knees makes Robert want to leave, to stop this. 

“I know it’s hard to understand now-”

“You know _nothing about it_ ,” Adam snaps. 

Robert ignores the rage on Adam’s face, the aborted movement he makes, like he wants to stand up and sock Robert in the jaw. Robert wouldn’t blame him, but this is the only way he knows how to help. “You know it will get easier to stand, you’ve lost someone too. However bad you’re feeling now, however much you want to punch me or Cain or whoever else gets in your way, you _know_ it gets easier.”

“Do I?” 

“You will,” Robert presses. He should know when to quit, can imagine the look on Aaron’s face if he were here, but Robert still has to do things his way. “Whatever happens, however quickly, I promise you that you have people who care about you, who want to help.”

“Like you,” Adam says, nasty. 

Robert shoves down the part of him that wants to take this personally. “Like Vic. Your family. Aaron.” 

Adam shrugs, but the tightness around his eyes is starting to ease. 

“And yeah, like me. We might not be close, not even friends, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to -” Robert cuts off, not even sure what he really wants to say. “I might be pissing you off more than helping right now-”

“Yeah, maybe.” Adam’s hands aren’t clenched anymore, though, fingers spread against his knees. He’s looking a little less raw around the edges. “Why do you care anyway?”

“You’re married to my sister,” Robert says immediately. Then, more slowly, “and you’re Aaron’s best friend. If he can’t be here, someone should.”

“You think it should be you?” Adam sounds less angry, though his expression is sceptical, frustrated. “Earning brownie points, are you?”

Robert’s expecting it and again tries not to take it personally. He’s getting better at it, forcing himself to acknowledge that not everything is about him. “I just wanted to let you know, that’s all.”

Standing, Robert feels awkward, out of place, but before he can flee, Adam lets out a sigh.

“You’re right.” It’s dragged out of him, like Adam’s reluctant to say it at all, and it’s the first time Robert’s heard those words and felt anything other than triumph. “I feel guilty.”

Robert opens his mouth and then closes it. Reluctantly, he sits back down, forearms resting on his knees. “There was nothing you could have done.”

“You don’t know that,” Adam snaps angrily. “Maybe I could have-”

“Short of getting inside of her brain and taking the addiction away completely, you couldn’t have done anything.” Robert knows it’s matter-of-fact and probably isn’t helping, but then Adam deflates. Robert doesn’t know if he should do anything, whether Adam wants him to. 

He does have something else to offer, though. 

“You should call Aaron.” 

Adam shakes his head, but Robert leans forward, catching Adam’s gaze and holding it. 

“He’ll want to know about this, he’ll want to help.”

“He’ll want to come home,” Adam says.

“Yes,” Robert agrees, because if there’s one thing he knows above all else, it’s that Aaron is a Good Person and will do whatever he can to help. “But if you don’t tell him-”

“-he’ll feel bad.”

“Maybe you will too.” Robert shrugs. “He’s your best friend.”

Adam grabs his phone from the table, turning it over in his hands. “You might just want him to come home.”

Robert knows that’s not as unfair as it feels. “I’m trying not to think of myself right now.”

Finally, the tension drains from Adam’s face and he stares down at his phone. “Thank you.”

“Yeah,” Robert says, standing again. He’s halfway to the door when Adam calls for him to wait. 

“You should grab a beer from the fridge. Aaron might wanna talk to you.” Adam waves the phone as if for emphasis. 

Robert wants to refuse, wants to go back to the pub, though with Chas at Moira’s and Liv at Gabby’s, it would be empty. Even worse with Aaron out of the country. When he catches sight of Vic on the stairs, her eyes pleading, he gets it. “Sure. You might need someone to stop him being suffocating.”

Adam huffs out a laugh, albeit weak and watery. “You can stop him coming home.”

 _Or I can make sure_ he’s _okay when he realises what’s happened_. Adam needs this, though, and Robert’s willing, at least for now, to be around. He heads for the kitchen, letting Vic follow as he threads his way through the house. 

“Thank you,” Vic says, grabbing hold of Robert’s arm. Robert pulls her into another hug, hears the low murmur of Adam on the phone, and makes a deal with himself to stay strong for Vic, and for Adam. It’s what Aaron would do. 

It’s what Robert _wants_ to do.

**Author's Note:**

> hit me up on tumblr: [sapphicsugden](http://sapphicsugden.tumblr.com)


End file.
